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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002017">We on fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyela/pseuds/Eyela'>Eyela</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mostly plotless, Other idols as side characters, Pre-Relationship, but i'll build on it if i ever continue this, for the hunger games that is, mingi/yunho is only slight, not for kpop lmao, oh lol wait there's a tag for this isn't there, sorry lol, there's no actual underage but there are some adults being creepy to minors, who then immediately get killed off because it's the Hunger Games</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:48:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyela/pseuds/Eyela</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Forget everything you think you know about the games. Last year was child’s play. This year, you’re dealing with all experienced killers.”</i>
</p>
<p>Mingi thought that once he’d won the Games, he’d be allowed to live his life in peace. But now, with the 75th Hunger Games tributes being reaped from the existing pool of victors, he finds himself preparing to be thrown back into the arena, this time against the likes of Park Seonghwa, Capitol darling and Prince of the Arena, Yeosang and Wooyoung, the tech-savvy duo from District 3, and Kim Hongjoong, the infamous ‘Pirate King’ from District 12. </p>
<p>(That one scene in Catching Fire where Haymitch briefs Katniss and Peeta on the other victors, what their strengths are and how they won, except it’s Eden telling Mingi, the other victors are the other Ateez members, and there’s more detail. This is just a bunch of headcanons strung together in a dialogue format tbh)<br/>UPDATE: Now with new scenes from previous Games!!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung &amp; Kang Yeosang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Meet the Players</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer that these are just characters inspired by the idols, rather than any attempt at actually depicting their real-life personalities and relationships. </p>
<p>I rewatched Catching Fire and got thinking about ATEEZ as Hunger Games victors, and accidentally got invested. This is me rattling off my ideas for their backstories. I used a few other idol names for side characters, but kept Caesar because, well, he’s Caesar. Some members have more backstory than others, because I got carried away with a couple of them and also the bias jumped out. </p>
<p>This ended up pretty long for a self-indulgent drabble, but I had fun with writing it. Hopefully some of you will enjoy reading it too!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eden strides into the living quarters with an electronic tablet under one arm, and plugs it into the room’s main screen before turning to fix Mingi with a glare.  </p>
<p>“Right,” he says, “I want you to forget everything you think you know about the games. Last year was child’s play. This year, you’re dealing with all experienced killers.”</p>
<p>Mingi is the only one at the table; the other District 8 tribute, an elderly woman who walks with a severe limp, has refused to join them for any discussion of training or alliances. All she’ll say is that she means to make a dignified end, no matter what the Capitol tries to force her to do.</p>
<p>Mingi strongly suspects that she’s planning to step off the start podium in the arena before the countdown finishes, opting for a quick death by landmine rather than the indignity of attempting to flee and being hunted down and hacked to pieces on live TV. He can’t say he blames her.</p>
<p>He’s only lived with the nightmares and survivor’s guilt from that awful arena for a year, but it’s enough to make him question if fighting to survive a second time is truly worth it. Still, he shakes the temptation away. He has to believe he’s fighting for <em>something</em>, even if it’s only an abstract idea of hope.</p>
<p>“Well,” he says, feigning confidence he doesn’t have, “What’s the plan?”</p>
<p>“Alliances will be key,” says Eden. “And you have one thing none of these others have – your medical experience. That makes you a great asset for any alliance. All the tributes with any sense will be vying for your attention when you step into that training hall tomorrow. You don’t have to decide who you want your allies to be immediately, but I’d advise figuring it out by the second morning.”</p>
<p>Mingi nods thoughtfully. He knows he’s definitely going to need others on his side, if he wants to hold his own against trained killers.</p>
<p>While he has basic fighting ability after his training before the last games, violence has never been Mingi’s forte. Although he comes from District 8, where most people work in the textile industry, he’d found himself in an apprenticeship with the local doctor. He has a ‘good head for numbers’, as his father has always put it, and is quick to pick up new skills, so he’d done well in the role.</p>
<p>His medical experience had kept him alive in the arena, the invaluable ability to treat his own injuries and those of Gahyeon, his fellow District 8 tribute. Well, until the girl from District 2 had run her through with a spear. There wasn’t much he’d been able to do about that. Except kill the District 2 girl of course, but that hadn’t made him feel any better. He still saw Gahyeon’s lifeless body in his mind’s eye when he lay down to sleep, clear as the day she’d died in his arms.</p>
<p>“So, how do I go about making allies?” asks Mingi, to take his mind of the thought of Gahyeon more than anything else.</p>
<p>“Well objectively, these are the main opponents you’re going to need to know, whether you decide to try and befriend them, or avoid them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eden clicks his pointer, and the screen lights up with the image of an astoundingly handsome man with white-blond hair.</p>
<p>“Park Seonghwa, District 1. Your classic career victor. Trained since childhood, deadly with a sword. Handsome, charming, excellent networker. He’s stayed a Capitol favourite ever since winning his games, he’ll have the most sponsors by far. He got nicknamed the Prince of the Arena during promotions, and people ate it up.”</p>
<p>The pointer clicks again, to show the same man, slightly younger and with black hair instead of blond, in what Mingi recognises quickly as a parade chariot. He looks regal and handsome in a white military-style jacket with black lapels and black silk sash, decorated with silver brooches, and an ornate silver sword – presumably fake – at his side. The girl beside him looks pretty in a white silk dress dripping with diamonds, but Seonghwa undeniably steals the show, waving and smiling like benevolent royalty.</p>
<p>Mingi kind of hates him already.</p>
<p>“He’s the youngest and strongest out of the Careers,” says Eden, “Which may actually work against him, since the others have all been friends for longer. He has to know that when it comes down to it, he’ll be the first one the pack will turn on, and that makes him the only one who might be considering outside alliances. Whether you want to risk that or not is up to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The screen changes to show a man with a young face but solidly built, staring into the camera with a closed-off expression.</p>
<p>“Choi Jongho, District 7. Strong, silent type. Insanely strong, actually. His party trick was breaking apples in half with his bare hands, Caesar had him do it during the interview and it gained him a lot of attention.”</p>
<p>The screen cuts to footage of the boy on stage, dolled up in an emerald green suit, doing just that. Caesar, his hair an obnoxious shade of yellow that year, makes a show of nearly falling off his seat in shock at the display of strength. Choi Jongho gives a half-hearted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.  </p>
<p>Mingi winces.</p>
<p>“Good survival skills in the wild, clearly quite at home in the forest. Handy with an axe too, coming from the lumber district and all. He was on the younger side when his name was drawn, but he’d been felling trees and lifting logs for years already.”</p>
<p>“Well he sounds terrifying,” says Mingi flatly.</p>
<p>“Don’t write him off just yet,” says Eden, with a wry smile. “He seemed to be open enough to alliances last time. He had a small group that held together for about a week, until the others were caught in a landslide. No history of betraying any truces.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next tribute has sharp, defined features, and an intensity in his eyes which immediately makes Mingi wary.</p>
<p>“Choi San, District 10. Master of duality.”</p>
<p>“Duality?” echoes Mingi, and Eden nods.</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t guess it, looking at him now, but he managed to be the most adorable kid the Capitol had ever seen during promotions for his games.”</p>
<p>The screen shows some silent footage of San’s interview, and Mingi barely recognises the boy. Even though his appearance hasn’t drastically changed, his demeanour is entirely different. His face is open and innocent, and his feet are dangling, not quite touching the floor, which Mingi realises after a moment is a result of his sitting with his legs raised slightly, rather than San actually being small. He giggles shyly at something Caesar’s said, flashing a cute dimpled smile.  </p>
<p>“Every woman over the age of 25 was ready to adopt him after this interview. He didn’t have any allies, but he was rolling in sponsors' support. They all kept him supplied with food and water while he hid for the first half of the games, and cooed over how <em>cute</em> he looked, sleeping in the treetops to stay out of danger.”</p>
<p>Eden shakes his head in disgust, and Mingi screws up his face in agreement. Only the Capitol could claim to love a child while sending him to fight others to the death.</p>
<p>“Then, about halfway through the games, the District 4 tributes came across him and attacked, and it was like a switch flicked. He fought like he was possessed, killed both of them with just a knife. They were so surprised by the change that they barely had time to react. Everything about him seemed to change after that – even his expressions and how he walked. He was almost unrecognisable. He won every fight he entered, anyone who attacked him got stabbed to death in seconds. His victory interviews and tour were awkward as all hell. No one knew what to make of him anymore, after seeing their sweet little boy go on such a vicious killing spree.”</p>
<p>“What did they expect him to do?” Mingi scoffs. “Curl up under a bush and sleep through the whole thing? Or would they prefer he just died?”</p>
<p>“You and I both know that Capitol citizens live with their heads in the clouds and believe whatever bullshit narrative gets tossed their way,” says Eden with a shrug. “San won’t get the same level of support from the audience these games, but he’s still undoubtedly dangerous, and unpredictable. Keep an eye on him, but I wouldn’t recommend an alliance.”</p>
<p>Looking at Choi San’s sharp, unreadable face on the screen, Mingi’s inclined to agree.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eden clicks on to the next tribute, more footage of this year's reapings. The man is tall, maybe as tall as Mingi, with soft, handsome features. He’s holding his head high, but his large eyes are filled with tears, and something about the sight tugs painfully in Mingi’s chest.</p>
<p>“Jeong Yunho, District 9. He became a favourite throughout promotions, despite being from a farming district. Really fit the Capitol’s idea of the simple, honest workingman. He was friendly and cheerful while also looking very physically strong, always an appealing combination to the public. Received an astounding amount of gifts and sponsorship, just because everyone found him so <em>likeable</em>.”</p>
<p>“Was it an act?” asks Mingi, finding it difficult to drag his eyes away from the handsome face on the screen.</p>
<p>“Well, if it was, he’s never dropped it. He never attacked anyone who hadn’t directly attacked him first in the arena, and he went to surprising lengths to keep his other teammates alive and motivated.” Eden pauses, and smiles ruefully. “He’s also just about one of the only other victors I’ve been able to have a genuine, human conversation with. He hates it here, obviously, but he’s still somehow so optimistic. I was… quite sad to hear he’d been chosen, if I’m honest.”</p>
<p>Something is niggling at the back of Mingi’s memory.</p>
<p>“He seems… familiar, somehow,” he says slowly. “I feel like I’ve seen him before, and not just on a screen.”</p>
<p>Eden hums.</p>
<p>“Well, he’s been a mentor the last couple of years, the youngest one on the team. You might have seen him around last year?”</p>
<p>Mingi is struck with a sudden memory of the end of his own tribute parade, of one of the tributes from District 9, dressed in some ridiculous grain-themed costume, stumbling from the chariot with tears in her eyes as soon as it halted, and flinging herself into the arms of a tall man waiting on the sidelines of the loading bay.</p>
<p>Knowing what most people here were like, Mingi had expected the man to brush her off and tell her to pull herself together, but instead he had pulled her close and rubbed her back, murmuring soothing words that Mingi was too far away to hear properly, then held out his free hand to the shaken-looking male tribute, leading them both away gently.</p>
<p>The incident had stuck out in Mingi’s mind, although he wasn’t quite sure why.</p>
<p>“A strong fighter, obviously,” Eden is continuing, “Good with a range of weapons – he used a sickle in his own games, but he requested training with the bow and the sword afterwards, so he has more knowledge to pass onto his mentees. I’m told he has very precise technique.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He clicks again, and the screen changes to show two other tributes, both young men. Mingi vaguely remembers hearing that District 3 didn’t have currently have any female victors still living, so two males had been chosen instead for this year. They’re both average-sized but athletic-looking, and both strikingly attractive.</p>
<p>“Kang Yeosang and Jung Wooyoung, District 3. Lifelong friends, since before either of them were victors. They won back-to-back games and will make an inseparable team in the area.”</p>
<p>Mingi frowns. “You mean they were friends <em>before</em> their games, and they <em>both</em> got chosen in the reapings? The odds of that are-”</p>
<p>“Next to none, yes,” says Eden. “And very few people who know of their history together are naïve enough to believe it happened by chance.”</p>
<p>“The Capitol rigged the reapings?” asks Mingi, surprised. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Yeosang’s victory was rather… unorthodox,” says Eden.</p>
<p>The screen changes to show Yeosang, significantly younger, during what must have been his interview. His hair is brushed down over his forehead, instead of parted and swept back like he wears it now, and the style makes him look even more childlike. If Mingi had to take a guess he’d say that the boy looked 12 or even 11, even though he knows that can’t be the case, since there’s never been any victors younger than 14. He’s pretty as a doll in his fancy clothes and makeup, but his shoulders are hunched like he wants to shrink into himself and disappear. Caesar is asking him questions, but Yeosang isn’t looking at him, just staring at the floor and nodding or shaking his head in response.</p>
<p>“He was overlooked from the outset,” says Eden. “Too nervous to talk during promotions, no allies among the other tributes, skill score of 4 out of 12. Everyone pretty much forgot about him. Whether it was intentional or not, we don’t know. But he certainly used it to his advantage.</p>
<p>“Yeosang’s games were shaping up to have one of the most interesting showdowns we’d seen. Instead of running together like normal, the Careers had gotten into some disagreement and split off, District 1 against District 2, each with their own allies, four against four. Everyone else was dead, except for Yeosang, but he was never expected to last more than a few nights in the wilderness anyway. He hid himself away in the forest as soon as the games started, the cameras were barely on him, and even his fellow tributes seemed to have forgotten he was still out there.</p>
<p>“It was the fifth day, and the scene was set. The two groups had run into each other in one of the main clearings, and it seems like a full-on battle was going to break out. Bets were being laid, everyone was on the edge of their seats, and then<em>… bam!”</em></p>
<p>Eden makes a bursting motion with his hands.</p>
<p>“Blinding light, and suddenly all eight tributes were unconscious. And who should come trotting out of the forest to calmly slit all their throats while they slept, but the boy everyone had forgotten about?”</p>
<p><em>Woah, ok</em> thinks Mingi. <em>That’s fucking terrifying.</em> He doesn’t voice the thought though, sensing that it’s not exactly helpful.</p>
<p>“How did he do it?” he asks instead.</p>
<p>“There were cameras on drones that year,” says Eden. “Yeosang managed to bring one of them down, and used the few days he had while the others were busy killing each other to somehow rewire it. Turned it into some kind of flash-grenade which stunned everyone. Only would’ve knocked them out for a few minutes, but that was all he needed. And just like that, the games were over.”</p>
<p>Mingi gives a low whistle. “Bet the Capitol loved that.”</p>
<p>“They were furious,” agrees Eden. “Yeosang robbed them of their entertainment. It was the very definition of an anticlimax. All the bets, all the upcoming drama, all the Gamemaker’s plans, wasted. They didn’t retaliate against him openly, obviously, they just congratulated him and sent him on his victory tour. But then the next year, whose name should come out of the lottery but Jung Wooyoung, Yeosang’s childhood friend.”</p>
<p>A shiver runs down Mingi's spine at the very idea. Probably the only thing worse than being thrown back into the arena would be watching one of his friends taken instead, knowing that it was his fault. Luckily, Hwanwoong and most of Mingi's other friends back home are already nineteen or older. Maybe the only good thing about this year’s games is that it means Dongju can skip his final year in the lottery, and all of them will have made it through. Well, except for Mingi of course. </p>
<p>“They reworked all the electronics in the arena that year, all the cameras and drones and such, so they couldn’t be tampered with again," Eden continues. "However, it turned out Wooyoung had different methods. He flirted and charmed his way into the Capitol public’s good books. He was attractive and cheeky in the interview, and everyone loved him.”</p>
<p>Mingi grimaces at the thought. He knows it's sometimes quite an effective tactic if done well (which Wooyoung obviously had), but it always turned his stomach to think of teenagers being forced to flirt with adults to gain support.</p>
<p>“He was quick at learning new skills too, like you, which always impresses the assessors. He was very handy with knives, managed to get a surprisingly high skill score. By the end of promotions, everyone was so impressed with him that he managed to strike up an alliance with the Careers. He benefitted from their protection and food stores until late game, when he stabbed one in the back and escaped, then hid until he was the last one standing."</p>
<p>“And then they both got chosen again? Was that rigged too?”</p>
<p>A wry smile pulls at Eden’s lips.</p>
<p>“Not exactly. Their reaping did cause quite a stir though.”</p>
<p>He clicks his pointer again, and a recording of the District 3 reaping begins to play, with sound this time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingi watches as an announcer in an electric blue suit unfolds the scrap of paper and squints at the name.</p>
<p>“And the second tribute for District 3 is… Jung Wooyoung.”</p>
<p>Wooyoung’s shoulders slump, and he goes to step forward, but Yeosang is quicker.</p>
<p>“I volunteer as tribute,” he says, eyes hard and voice flat.</p>
<p>Wooyoung cries out in horror and tries to pull him back, but Yeosang shakes him off without looking, striding forward to stand beside the other man on the podium.</p>
<p>“Very well,” says the announcer. “The second tribute for District 3 is Kang Yeosang. And now…”</p>
<p>“Wait!”</p>
<p>Wooyoung is pushing forward past the peacekeepers, wild determination on his face.</p>
<p>“Wait! I volunteer too!”</p>
<p>The announcer blinks, confused.</p>
<p>“Your place has already been taken by a volunteer, you cannot overrule…” they begin, but Wooyoung shakes his head.</p>
<p>“I volunteer to take <em>his</em> place.”</p>
<p>He points at the first male tribute, a middle-aged man with a prosthetic leg, who stares back at him in shock.</p>
<p>A buzz of surprise runs through the crowd. Yeosang’s perfect composure suddenly evaporates, and he turns on his friend, expression tight with fear and fury.</p>
<p>“Wooyoung, don’t you <em>dare!”</em> he shouts, but it’s too late.</p>
<p>The announcer has nodded their acceptance, and Wooyoung is moving forward to take Yeosang’s hand in his and raise it high above their heads, glaring out at the crowd defiantly even as Yeosang continues to shout at him. The clip ends abruptly.</p>
<p>“That’s quite some friendship,” says Mingi.</p>
<p>Eden nods.</p>
<p>“Their greatest asset is going to be their partnership. Neither of them are formidable fighters, but they’re <em>smart,</em> and that makes them just as dangerous. If you do decide to ally with them, be aware that they will always put each other first.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And finally, District 12.”</p>
<p>The screen shows a small, sharp-featured young man, chin raised defiantly as he glares directly into the camera. Mingi recognises him instantly as the victor of the 73rd Games - the year just before Mingi's.</p>
<p>“That's Kim Hongjoong,” he says.</p>
<p>“The Pirate King himself,” agrees Eden. “He doesn’t need any introduction, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>Mingi shakes his head.</p>
<p>He still remembers watching the games that Hongjoong won – how could he not? It was the first time in years that anyone in his district had cared – <em>really</em> cared – about the victor once their own two tributes had died.  </p>
<p>He remembers standing in the city square with his friends, watching as the lake which had started off small on the first day slowly expanded to flood nearly the entire arena as the days passed. Watching everyone fall except the Careers, who’d secured both of the life-rafts the Cornucopia had been stocked with, and the District 4 tributes, with their knowledge of boats and water.</p>
<p>And the scrappy, fiery male tribute from District 12, afloat in the turbulent water on a flimsy hand-built raft held together by nothing but frayed rope and sheer determination.</p>
<p>The careers had laughed when they’d seen his flimsy craft, and they’d kept laughing right up until he used it to sail close enough to attack, aiming not for their bodies as they were expecting, but for the weak points of their own boats.</p>
<p>Mingi remembers watching the boy from District 1 mocking Hongjoong for missing as the smaller boy’s sword swung past him and into the hull of the rowboat, splitting the wood apart. Beside him in the town square, Mingi’s friend Hwanwoong had clutched at his arm and whispered ‘Oh my god’ and Mingi had nodded in agreement, because from a distance, they could see what the District 1 boy could not, could tell what Hongjoong was doing.</p>
<p>He’d sunk them with terrifying efficiency before they even realised what was happening, leaving them to the giant mutated sharks circling underneath. He’d passed out from exhaustion as soon as his last opponent was gone, and they’d had to postpone the Victor ceremony for days while waiting for him to recover, he’d pushed himself so far past his limits.</p>
<p>When he’d finally woken and the golden circlet of the victor had been placed on his head, some bright spark in the audience had shouted ‘the Pirate King!’ and the nickname had stuck.</p>
<p>Mingi has a great deal of admiration for the man, and the thought of going up against him in the arena is downright terrifying.</p>
<p>“People always underestimate how resourceful someone can be if they’ve been raised having to scavenge just to survive,” muses Eden. “The guy basically grew up behind a rubbish dump, he seems to know how to make just about anything out of a couple of old planks and some wire. A formidable opponent, that’s for sure. He’s not averse to alliances though, if his first games are anything to go by. He had a small band of people he was helping, tributes younger than himself. He kept them alive far longer than they would have managed by themselves.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eden switches off the screen and turns back to Mingi.</p>
<p>“So there you go,” he says. “Any thoughts?”</p>
<p>“I want to team up with Yunho,” says Mingi decisively. He’s not sure why he’s so certain about it, but he feels an undeniable pull towards the other man. “He seems like someone I could fight beside. And… maybe Jongho, too,” he adds after a moment’s thought.  </p>
<p>Eden seems surprised at the speed of the decision, but he nods approvingly.</p>
<p>“Good idea,” he says. “They’d likely make a dependable team, or as close to one as you can get in circumstances like this. They don’t have a history of backstabbing, at the very least.”  </p>
<p>He gathers up his things, and Mingi sinks back in his chair, feeling overwhelmed. Eden seems to notice his sudden tiredness, and smiles sympathetically.  </p>
<p>“Get some rest,” he says. “It’s the parade tomorrow, and then you’ll be going straight into training”</p>
<p>Mingi nods, getting to his feet and heading for the luxurious bedroom he’s been given. Tomorrow, he’ll be subjected to the tumult and chaos of crowds, sponsors, and his fellow tributes, but for now, he will enjoy whatever moments of peace he is offered.</p>
<p>There’s nothing else he can do for now but hope.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We’re revisiting three earlier Hunger Games this time, so <b>please be aware that the archive warnings have changed to include graphic depictions of violence!</b></p><p>Ok so I really tried to do the maths and work out the order of their Games and their ages, and I came to the conclusion that it simply Does Not Work. Therefore, we will be ignoring linear time and logical aging in this fic, please and thank you. Just imagine that all 8 members were somehow between 15 and 18 when they competed, and are between 18 and 21 at the time of the 75th Games. </p><p>I used other idols for side characters who are decent people, and kept all the asshole characters nameless for the most part. Unfortunately, most of the decent people are also the ones that die. </p><p>So, without further ado, here’s ~6000 words of characters being traumatised! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p><strong>Part 1 - Seonghwa</strong> </p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa swirls his drink, watching the cherry in it bob around, and does his best not to think too hard about anything else. Tonight is not the time for a panic attack. It’s still three hours and eighteen minutes until he can leave the party.</p><p>Panem’s biggest names are all present in the gigantic, luxurious room, drinking fancy cocktails and eating extravagant dishes. The richest and most elite of the Capitol citizens, along with this year’s mentors and many of the previous victors, all gathered to drink and gamble and watch as the next set of children die.</p><p>Seonghwa’s standing with a small group of people, three Capitol citizens and two older fellow victors from Districts 1 and 2. Like everyone here, their outfits are a riot of colour and dripping with luxury items, silk ribbons and feathers and jewels. Seonghwa fits right in among them, dressed entirely in bright red tonight. Red shirt, red trousers and red jacket, with a red line painted down over one eye almost like a scar. It makes his newly-dyed white-blond hair stand out, and makes him look every inch a Capitol citizen.</p><p>He’d been feeling good when he’d chosen the outfit, and enjoyed the stir he’d caused when he arrived at the party, everyone cheering as he entered and gushing over how handsome he looked. Now though, after seeing this year’s tributes on the screen in plain, practical trousers and jackets, he feels ridiculous, playing dress-up in silly clothes while people are fighting for their lives.</p><p>He’s been trying not to look at the screens too much, doesn’t want to be reminded of the death and the suffering while he’s trying to hold it together for the crowd, but unfortunately there are screens everywhere in the room, so the Games can be seen by everyone from every angle, meaning he can’t escape. The arena this year is mountainous and full of pine trees and steep slopes, very different from the jungle of Seonghwa’s own Games, but the sight still makes him uneasy.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you ever miss it?” asks one of the men curiously, breaking into Seonghwa’s train of thought.</p><p>“Miss what, sorry?” asks Seonghwa, smiling politely.</p><p>The man grins and gestures at the nearest screen.</p><p>“The arena!” he says. “Your <em>domain!”</em></p><p>Seonghwa schools his expression so his instinctual grimace doesn’t show. He <em>hates</em> it when people call the arena ‘his domain’. He knows it’s just a product of the whole ‘prince’ schtick his stylist came up with for promotions, but the idea that he had any control in that awful place is laughable.</p><p>“Yes, it must be <em>such</em> a rush,” gushes the woman clinging to the man’s arm.</p><p> </p><p>Seonghwa thinks of the boy he stabbed in the Cornucopia bloodbath.</p><p> </p><p>He’d seen an opponent in front of him and he’d struck almost without thinking, like he’d been trained to, like he’d been doing since he was old enough to hold a sword.</p><p>He hadn’t been prepared for what it felt like for his sword to meet actual flesh instead of a practice dummy. To see true pain and fear in his opponents’ eyes, rather than the dull grimace of being hit with a practice sword. To make someone scream, see their blood flowing from a wound he’d just made. To realise that <em>this was real.</em></p><p><em>So much blood</em>, god, it had been <em>everywhere</em>, and so <em>red</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>This isn’t what they told me it would be like, </em>he remembers thinking numbly. </p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t glorious. This wasn’t thrilling. These weren’t like the opponents he’d trained against – these were children. The boy now bleeding out in the sand before him couldn’t have been more than fourteen. He hadn’t even had a chance to grab a weapon from the rack yet – all that was clutched in his hands was a metal drink bottle from one of the supply piles.</p><p>The reality of the situation crashed into Seonghwa like plunging into cold water.</p><p>
  <em>He wasn’t a warrior right now. He was a butcher.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The couple are still looking at Seonghwa expectantly, waiting for his answer, and he wonders suddenly what would happen if he was allowed to say what he really thought, how they’d react.</p><p>“<em>Actually, it was the worst experience of my life, it destroyed me mentally and I have nightmares every night about the innocent I killed, and sometimes I wish I’d died in that awful place so I didn’t have to live with the guilt.”</em></p><p><em>“I</em> miss it sometimes,” chimes in one of their companions, a District 2 victor a few years older than Seonghwa. “The thrill of the hunt, there’s nothing like it! I felt <em>alive</em> in that arena.”</p><p><em>Freak!</em> screams Seonghwa internally, even as he continues to smile. <em>You sick, sadistic freak! How could you possibly have enjoyed any of that?</em></p><p>“Rather you than me,” he says aloud, raising his glass and attempting a good-natured laugh.</p><p>“Ah, where’s your sense of adventure, Seonghwa?” chides the other victor. “No interest in reliving the glory days?”</p><p>Seonghwa kind of wants to smash his cocktail glass into the other man’s face, but he pushes down the impulse and scoffs at him playfully instead.</p><p>“That’s easy for you to say,” he says, “<em>Your</em> arena didn’t have giant killer mosquitos!”</p><p>The other victor gives a shout of laughter and claps Seonghwa on the back.</p><p>“Ah damn, you’ve got a point there,” he says.</p><p>The others burst out laughing too, and Seonghwa laughs along with them like he doesn’t still have vivid nightmares about running from the horrible creatures.</p><p> </p><p>A moment later, a commotion brings the group’s attention back to the screens.</p><p>A group of three tributes, all young boys, are scrambling down a steep slope, frantically dodging trees, as a landslide of stones and boulders rumbles after them, picking up speed with every passing second.</p><p>The room lets out a collective gasp as the cameras reveal what the tributes can’t yet see – they’re running straight towards the edge of a cliff. The taller blond boy at the front reaches it first and skids to a halt with a yell of panic, the next boy nearly crashing into his back. The last boy has just enough warning to hurl himself gracelessly to one side, hitting the ground hard and rolling just out of harm’s way.</p><p> </p><p>The other two aren’t so lucky.</p><p> </p><p>The last boy – Jongho? Was that his name? – sits up, looking dazed. He stares around at the empty clifftop, and Seonghwa can see the horror on his face when he realises his companions are nowhere to be seen.</p><p>He scrambles forward to look over the edge of the cliff, at the huge pile of rocks far below.</p><p><em>“Hyunjin!”</em> he screams. <em>“Seungmin!”</em></p><p>Two canons boom in quick succession, and Jongho stumbles back, shaking his head numbly.</p><p>Suddenly he lurches forward and snatches up one of the smaller boulders left behind, lifting it easily, and tosses it furiously over the edge of the cliff with a shout. It lands with a crash somewhere below, and Jongho sinks to his knees, shoulders heaving.</p><p> </p><p>“Gosh he’s strong, isn’t he?” says one of the men. “Actually, isn’t he the one who split the apple with his hands?”</p><p>“Yes, District 7, I believe,” says a woman. “Oh! That reminds me – you simply <em>have</em> to try the new cocktails, they have an apple flavoured one which is just <em>divine!</em>”</p><p>That causes more of a stir than the rockfall did, and Seonghwa has to fight to keep his disgust from showing on his face. As the group shepherds him away to drink with them, Seonghwa glances back over his shoulder at the screen.</p><p>Jongho is still kneeling by the edge of the cliff, looking utterly lost.</p><p> </p><p><em>I’m sorry,</em> Seonghwa thinks, not really knowing what he’s apologising for but wishing he could say it anyway, <em>I’m so, so sorry.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Part 2 - Yeosang</strong>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>** TW:</strong> <em>This section has a minor (16) having to flirt with an adult for favour. It’s nothing more drastic than Hunger Games canon, and nowhere near as bad as what happened to Finnick, but it’s still written to be quite uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to read it, feel free to skip to the next (**) to see the summary of this scene instead.</em></p><p> </p><p>Yeosang stands perfectly still behind one of the pillars in the main function room, pale clothes matching into the white décor and helping him stay inconspicuous. No one notices him standing in the shadows, and for now that’s just as he wants it. He’s focussed on watching Jeong Yunho, mentor for District 9, chatting warmly with a group of older men lounging on some plush couches, a little way from the bar.</p><p>“No, it’s true!” he’s saying, as his companions laugh. “I wanted to be a TV host when I was a kid!”</p><p>“Why a TV host?” asks one of them, leaning forward interestedly.</p><p>“I dunno, I just thought it looked like fun. I used to practice doing the voices!”</p><p>Yunho makes a show of fixing his suit jacket and sitting up straight, then clears his throat and puts on a beaming smile.</p><p>“Good evening, Panem!” he says, in a startlingly accurate imitation of Caesar Flickerman, and his companions burst into delighted applause, roaring with laughter and clapping Yunho on the back.</p><p>“Actually,” says Yunho, waving for them to quieten down and let him speak, “Actually, you know who has an amazing voice? Felix!”</p><p>“The male tribute from your district?” says one of the other men. “I don’t remember his voice being anything special.”</p><p>“No, not normally, but he can make his voice go <em>super</em> low if he wants to, like way lower than mine! It’s crazy, I nearly fell off my chair the first time he did it!”</p><p>This causes another buzz of intrigue, and Yunho takes the cue and launches into a spiel about all of Felix’s talents; his aim with a bow, how resourceful and determined he is, how impressed Yunho was by him during preparations for the arena. His companions listen with interest.</p><p>Watching from behind his pillar, Yeosang feels his heart sinking.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone knows Yunho is good at getting sponsor gifts – for both himself during his own Games, and now for his mentees. Yeosang had been hoping to pick up some tips by watching him, but Yunho’s method just seems to be ‘be an actual ray of sunshine’. He’s a natural conversationalist, and effortlessly funny and likeable.</p><p>Yeosang can’t do that.</p><p>Yeosang knows how to talk to machines, not people. He knows how to program, how to rewire a circuit board. He knows how to move silently and how to be quick on his feet. He knows how to vanish into the background when need be.</p><p>He doesn’t know how to be friendly and cheerful.  </p><p> </p><p>Still, he thinks scornfully as he retreats to the elevator, he has one other talent left in his arsenal – sit still and look pretty.</p><p> </p><p>Back in his room, Yeosang turns out his wardrobe onto the luxurious bed and examines the clothes critically. The Capitol had spared no expense when they invited him back, providing him with a luxurious suite to stay in and expensive clothes to wear. <em>‘An honoured guest to the exclusive viewing party’</em>, they’d called him, like they weren’t just dragging him out in the open so they’d be able to watch him break when Wooyoung died.</p><p>He picks out a silky shirt like the type the stylists had Wooyoung in for his interview and hopes it works as well for him, seeing as they have a similar body type. He doesn’t have the courage to unbutton it low like Wooyoung did, but the fabric is soft and shimmery, and much nicer than anything he owns back home. He does his makeup carefully, using blue contact lenses and bronze eyeshadow, styling his brown hair back from his eyes.</p><p>When he’s finished, he stares at himself in the large mirror.</p><p>He looks beautiful. He looks like someone else.</p><p>He looks like he’s about to start crying.</p><p>He doesn’t want to go back. He doesn’t want to be in the same room as any of these Capitol people, let alone actively trying to talk to them.</p><p><em>You have to do it, for Wooyoung</em>, he reminds himself, and tries his best to smile instead. It doesn’t look very convincing. Probably because he’s just about the unhappiest he’s ever been right now. Even his own Hunger Games were preferable to this, because at least it was his own life on the line. Now it’s his best friend out there, injured and alone, and Yeosang feels <em>helpless</em> in a way he never did last year.</p><p>Still, he squares his shoulders, steels his nerves, and sets out from the safety of his room once more.</p><p> </p><p>Re-entering the bright, noisy main hall, he finds a seat at the bar and debates asking for one of the cocktails. He doesn’t particularly want to drink, but it’ll look weird if he’s just sitting there. However, before he can make up his mind, a voice cuts through his thoughts.</p><p>“Why it’s Kang Yeosang!”</p><p>Surprised that he’d been recognised so soon, Yeosang turns. There’s a tall woman seated next to him, dressed head-to-toe in purple, blinking at him with large eyes and a wide smile that instantly sets his nerves on edge.</p><p>“Have you come back to find out who your successor will be?” she asks, leaning closer. “It’s all so <em>exciting,</em> isn’t it?”</p><p>He can’t tell her age, or describe her features. There’s just white skin and bright purple lips and eyes heavy with makeup and false lashes. She’s like an image which has been oversaturated, hard to look at directly.</p><p>“Ah, I… I was invited back, yes,” he says, willing his voice not to shake.</p><p>“How <em>nice,</em>” says the woman, looking Yeosang up and down in what she probably thinks is a subtle manner. “How are you finding the party, dear?”</p><p>They make small talk for a few minutes. Yeosang knows he’s not saying anything interesting, chattering nervously about how nice the décor is and how good the food tastes, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The woman clearly isn’t paying any attention to what he’s saying, just staring at him with hungry eyes and giving absent ‘<em>mhm’</em>s when he pauses.</p><p>He runs out of things to say pretty quickly, and stalls awkwardly while he tries to figure out how to work Wooyoung into the conversation. What would Jeong Yunho be doing in this situation? Smiling more, probably, for a start. That always seems to make people more engaged.</p><p>Yeosang tries a smile, but he can tell it’s not convincing, and the woman pushes her lips out in a pout.</p><p>“What’s got you looking so sad, sweetie?” she asks.</p><p>Fine, if miserable is the only expression he’s capable of right now, he’ll run with it.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m just worried about my friend,” he says softly. “Jung Wooyoung, the male tribute for District 3? He got injured today.”</p><p>The woman gasps.</p><p>“Oh, you’re friends with Wooyoungie? How <em>precious!</em> He’s such a handsome boy too, isn’t he?”</p><p><em>Don’t fucking call him Wooyoungie,</em> Yeosang seethes internally. <em>You’re not his friend. You don’t even care that he’s hurt.</em></p><p>“Yes, he’s my best friend, since we were kids,” he says aloud.</p><p>“How <em>nice</em>. He’s been quite impressive so far, hasn’t he?” muses the woman, and Yeosang seizes the opening.</p><p>“He can win, I know he can,” he says, hoping he sounds convincing and not just desperate. “He just needs a little help. I mean, you saw his evaluation score, didn’t you? He’s so clever, and he’s so good at fighting too. It would be such a waste if he died just because a cut on his leg got infected, I couldn’t bear it if-”</p><p>The woman presses a finger against Yeosang’s lips, cutting him off.</p><p>“Hush, you sweet thing,” she coos. “I just can’t <em>stand</em> seeing someone as <em>darling</em> as you looking so upset. I tell you what, how about I go and make a little donation? Maybe we can get them to send Wooyoungie some nice healing salve, hmm?”</p><p>Yeosang almost slumps in relief, and doesn’t need to fake the tears welling in his eyes, even if they’re more from stress than gratitude.</p><p>“R-really?” he says shakily. “You’d do that? That’s so kind of you, thank you so much!”</p><p>The woman laughs airily and leans in to wipe away one of his tears. It takes all his self-control not to flinch away from her closeness, and her awful acrylic nails so near his eye.</p><p>“Oh, no need to thank me, sweetie,” she says, despite clearly preening at his words. “It’s no trouble, no trouble at all. Now, let’s go and find Wooyoungie’s mentor, shall we? Do you know where to find him?”</p><p>She speaks like someone helping a little lost child find their parents in the marketplace, but she’s eying his lips like she wants to kiss him. The juxtaposition is making Yeosang’s head spin, but he takes her outstretched hand and lets her pull him to his feet all the same. </p><p> </p><p>Wooyoung’s mentor is quickly tracked down, money is handed over and just like that, the gift is arranged. The mentor gives Yeosang a thumbs up and a grin when the woman glances away for a second, distracted by the nearest screen.</p><p>“Good work!” he mouths silently, and Yeosang nods back discretely.</p><p>“There now, that’s all taken care of,” says the woman, beaming at him. “So you’ll be able to relax and enjoy the rest of the night now, won’t you?”</p><p>Yeosang nods again and opens his mouth to speak, but the woman doesn’t wait for his reply before forging ahead.</p><p>“Why don’t you come and sit with me for a while? We have some of the best seats in the house, my friends and I! In fact, they must be wondering why I’m taking so long to get back. They’d just <em>love</em> to meet you though.”</p><p>Over the woman’s shoulder, the mentor is nodding and signalling for Yeosang to accept her offer. Yeosang winces. He thought his job was done and he could retreat to his room now, but he supposes that would be too easy. The Games aren’t over yet, and snubbing a potential repeat sponsor is a bad idea.</p><p>“Are you sure?” he asks, “I’d hate to impose.”</p><p>The woman waves his concern away with a laugh.</p><p>“Don’t be silly! As if someone as pretty as you could <em>ever</em> be a bother!”</p><p>He has the sudden urge to remind her that he once slit eight people’s throats in under four minutes, just to see how she’d react, but he fights it down and lets himself be taken by the arm and led away.</p><p> </p><p>They go upstairs to the open section which overlooks the lower floor. The décor is somehow even more luxurious up here, sumptuous red velvet chairs edged with gold braid.</p><p>The woman beelines to where three others are seated right at the front, with a clear view of the largest screen. They call out greetings when they spot the woman and beckon the pair over animatedly, seemingly delighted to see Yeosang as well once he’s introduced.</p><p>However, there’s only one seat free, which the woman immediately settles into, and Yeosang hesitates. Does she expect him to remain standing? Oh god, does she want him to sit at her feet?</p><p>The woman looks over at him expectantly and pats her knee.</p><p>“C’mon now, sweetheart, don’t be shy,” she says, and her friends giggle.</p><p>Yeosang goes cold.</p><p>
  <em>Is she serious? </em>
</p><p>Under normal circumstances, hell, under <em>any</em> other circumstances, he’d tell her to get fucked, or run away, or both. But he can’t risk offending her, not when the sponsored gift hasn’t even been received yet and could still be withdrawn.  </p><p><em>For Wooyoung,</em> he tells himself firmly, and forces himself forward to perch gingerly on her knee. The woman’s hands settle firmly around his waist and pull him closer, until he can feel the tiny jewels on her dress digging into his back through the thin silk shirt.</p><p>“There now, isn’t this nice? I told you we had good seats.”</p><p>His skin is crawling, all his energy going into suppressing shivers. <em>Stop treating me like some sort of pet! </em>he wants to scream at her.</p><p>“Isn’t he just so <em>handsome,</em>” gushes one of the woman’s friends.</p><p>“Yes, I can’t believe we didn’t take more notice last year!” agrees another, widening her eyes comically.</p><p>Yeosang ducks his head, feigning bashfulness, and setting off another round of coos and giggles. The conversation soon moves on though, to gossip about other attendees’ outfits. The woman talks over Yeosang’s head as though he’s not even there, which is both an insult and a relief.</p><p>He stares at the vase of flowers on the low table while they talk. There’s water in it, enough to form a puddle if he poured it out. A puddle big enough to spread between the four women’s chair legs. The chair frames are metal, they’d conduct electricity, and the coverings have enough polyester in them to do so as well. If he were just to push the nearest standing lamp over, the exposed wires in the base would supply enough voltage to…</p><p>Yeosang gives himself a little shake. He never used to do this before the Games, constantly analyse his surroundings for ways to kill people when he’s uncomfortable. It’s an unsettling thing to have in the back of his thoughts, and it’s not even a useful habit anymore – he’d be executed in an instant if he tried anything like that here.</p><p>Once again, he’s struck by how truly helpless he is. This isn’t the arena, where at least he could fight – was <em>expected</em> to fight.</p><p>There’s no way to fight out of this. Nothing he can do.</p><p>He just has to sit still and look pretty.</p><p><em>For Wooyoung,</em> he tells himself. <em>For Wooyoung. For Wooyoung. For Wooyoung.</em></p><p>
  
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</p><p>In the arena, Wooyoung is roused from his restless doze by a gentle beeping noise. Poking his head cautiously out of the small cave he’s tucked himself into, he sees a parachute floating down, landing just a few feet in front of him.</p><p>He blinks in surprise – he’d assumed that he’d be out of favour now, having betrayed and run away from the popular Careers, laying low with a leg wound.</p><p>After quickly checking the coast is clear, Wooyoung scrambles forward, as best he can with one leg throbbing in pain with every movement, and snatches up the precious container. He retreats back into his den before opening it. Inside is a wide, flat jar of what looks a bit like hand cream, and a small white slip of paper.</p><p>He snatches up the paper and scans the single line of text, feeling tears well behind his eyes when he sees what’s written there.</p><p><em>Get well soon – from Yeosang</em>.</p><p>Wooyoung works quickly, scooping the salve from the container and smearing it over his wound, and sighing when the pain relief is almost immediate. He stashes the jar carefully in his pack once he's done.</p><p>He runs his fingers over the message, staring at his best friend’s name, then slips it carefully into the front pocket of his jacket.</p><p>“Thank you,” he whispers, not knowing if Yeosang is watching or not, but hoping that he is. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong>**Summary:</strong> Yunho is very good at networking to get sponsors for his mentees. Yeosang is not, so he forces himself to flirt with an older woman to get a sponsored gift for Wooyoung, who is injured and needing healing salve. The woman is creepy and patronising about it.  </em>
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  <strong>Part 3 - Hongjoong</strong>
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</p><p>Hongjoong is pacing back and forth in front of one of the main screens, more agitated than he’s ever been in his life. He’d thought that without a doubt, being in the arena last year was the most stressed he’d ever be.</p><p>He’d thought wrong.</p><p>District 12 had never had a victor before, so despite being young and, in his opinion, hilariously underqualified, Hongjoong had immediately been made a mentor. The tributes this year aren’t even that different to him in age, which only made it feel more ridiculous.</p><p>Dami, 18, quiet but determined, and Jisung, 15, full of nerves and energy and optimism. They’ve stuck together in the arena so far, Dami seemingly protective of Jisung, and Hongjoong is pleased with their teamwork. Dami is handy with a bo staff and Jisung managed to get a short sword from the Cornucopia, but they’ve done well to mostly avoid conflict and lie low for now. Their main threat has been the wildfires, which have quickly established themselves as near-hourly occurrences since the dawn of the third day.</p><p>At the moment, the pair are picking their way through a burnt-out patch of forest, where wildfire had torn through the undergrowth only half an hour before. Hongjoong was relieved and proud that they’d remembered his advice – that one of the safest places from fire was land which had already been burned.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, even the safest places aren’t any guarantee, especially in an environment as one-sided as the arena.</p><p> </p><p>One moment everything is calm, and the next, a loud <em>crack</em> rings out, and a huge tree, weakened by having its base burnt, begins to fall right towards the two tributes. Hongjoong starts forward with a cry of warning, as if they could hear him through the screen, but he’s helpless to do anything but watch.</p><p>Dami is quick to move, shoving Jisung forward in an attempt to get him out of the way, but then the tree is crashing down, sending up a cloud of ash and dust from the ground.</p><p>When the ash clears, Jisung is lying on his back, winded, one leg caught under a heavy branch. Dami’s whole body is pinned under the main trunk of the tree, face-down and unmoving. Jisung yelps when he sees her, struggling against the branch trapping him as he tries to reach out to her.</p><p>“Dami!” he cries, “Oh my god, Dami, can you hear me? <em>Dami?!</em> Are you-?”</p><p>The boom of the canon rings out, and Hongjoong cries out in horror. His knees give out, and he drops gracelessly onto the sofa behind him.</p><p>“Aw gee, that’s too bad,” says someone on the next chair, a fat man in an awful lime-green suit. “She was pretty.”</p><p>Normally Hongjoong would have punched him without hesitation for such a remark, but right now he’s in too much shock. On screen, Jisung is staring at Dami’s body, mouth moving wordlessly, tears welling in his eyes. Hongjoong’s heart breaks for him.</p><p> </p><p>Then, almost instantly, it skips five beats and drops into his stomach as he sees movement in the nearby bushes.</p><p> </p><p>The girl from District 2 is approaching silently, wicked-looking spear raised at the ready, clearly aiming to take advantage of Jisung's predicament.</p><p>“No,” whispers Hongjoong, “No no nononono…”</p><p>He watches helplessly as she draws nearer, and Jisung finally notices her, eyes widening in panic.</p><p>Jisung goes for his sword, but it’s pinned under the branch trapping his leg, and he can’t draw it. He twists frantically, reaching for Dami’s abandoned staff instead, but the girl is faster, darting forward.</p><p>The spear plunges into his chest. His body goes limp.</p><p>The canon sounds.</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong’s mind goes blank. The noise from the room around him seems muffled, as if he’s underwater. His eyes are open, but he’s not seeing. Instead, he’s back in the arena, watching Yoohyeon drop lifelessly to the ground with an arrow in her chest, stumbling back and trying to find cover from the unseen attacker, but unable to drag his eyes away from her body.  </p><p>“Hey, are you alright?” says a distant voice, but Hongjoong barely hears it, too busy looking for somewhere to shelter.</p><p>Then a hand comes down on his shoulder, and Hongjoong acts without thinking.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He’s under attack. This person killed Yoohyeon. They’re going to pay. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A panicked shout breaks through the ringing in his ears and the haze suddenly clears, Hongjoong realises he has the fat man pinned against the nearest wall, the cheese knife from a nearby platter clutched tight in his hand, pressing against the man’s neck.</p><p>The man’s eyes are wide and terrified and he’s blubbering pathetically, fat fingers prying weakly against Hongjoong’s grip. Everyone nearby is staring at them, slack-jawed and horrified.</p><p>Hongjoong releases the man and leaps back as if burned. The knife slips between his fingers and clatters to the floor, and before anyone else can move or speak, he flees the room.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t even make it back to the elevator before his legs threaten to give out again, so he wrenches open the nearest door and staggers inside. It’s one of the private suites used by elites at the party who want time with just a partner or close friends, thankfully not in use right now.</p><p>Footage of the Games is playing on a large screen in front of a sofa and coffee table.</p><p>He picks up the bowl of chocolates on the table and hurls it into the TV screen, shattering it. The footage cuts out, and Hongjoong collapses onto the couch, sobbing.</p><p> </p><p>Dami and Jisung are both dead, within the span of five minutes. It had happened so quickly, Hongjoong’s head is still spinning. He’d been meant to prepare and guide them, but he’d done an abysmal job of it, and now he’ll never see them again. They’ll never go home to their families.</p><p>Would they have lived if they’d had a more competent mentor?</p><p> </p><p>It’s only a couple of minutes before he hears a knock at the door.</p><p>
  <em>Great. </em>
</p><p>Someone’s probably told the authorities that he had a violent outburst and tried to kill an innocent bystander. It’ll be peacekeepers sent to drag him away, to beat him for attacking a Capitol citizen, or else declare him mentally unstable and lock him up.</p><p>He almost smiles at the notion – at least if they lock him away, they won’t make him come back and mentor next year.</p><p>There’s another knock, slightly louder this time, and then the door opens.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not a peacekeeper. It’s a tall man with blond hair, handsome face soft with concern.</p><p>“Hongjoong?” he says. “My name’s Yunho. Do you mind if I sit with you?”</p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong stares at him uncomprehendingly. <em>Sit with him?</em> Why the hell would anyone want to sit with him after the stunt he just pulled?</p><p>“Why are you here?” he asks harshly, but the other man doesn’t seem perturbed.</p><p>“Because I know how it feels to watch your charges get killed out there,” says Yunho softly, “And no one was there for me, for my first time.”</p><p>Looking up at the earnest face, Hongjoong suddenly realises that he recognises the man – Jeong Yunho, the mentor from District 9. Both of his district’s tributes this year are already dead; one in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, and the other killed two days later by the career pack.</p><p>Suddenly his presence makes a whole lot more sense.  </p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong shifts wordlessly up the couch to make room, and Yunho gives a small smile and closes the door behind him.</p><p>“It’s a lot to go through,” says Yunho gently as he sits down. “How do you feel?”</p><p>Normally Hongjoong would scoff at the question, but Yunho is in a similar situation to Hongjoong – a young mentor from a poor district who’s had to watch his charges die – so he puts his first instinct aside and tries to answer honestly.</p><p>“Devastated,” he says shortly. “Angry. Guilty.”</p><p>Yunho nods as if that was the answer he expected.  </p><p>“The guilt really got to me at first. Messed me up for just about the whole first year.”</p><p>He folds his hands in his lap and turns to look at Hongjoong seriously.</p><p>“You did all you could for them,” he says firmly. “None of this is your fault, understand? You didn’t choose their names, you didn’t send them into that arena. That’s all on the Capitol.”</p><p>“I still should’ve done better,” says Hongjoong, looking away.</p><p>Yunho smiles sadly.</p><p>“What could you have done to stop that tree falling?” he asks. “How could you have predicted that happening, prepared them any better for it?”</p><p>He shakes his head. “You’ve been put in an impossible situation, Hongjoong. Don’t blame yourself for that, blame the people that put you here.”</p><p>Hongjoong deflates slightly.</p><p>
  <em>An impossible situation.</em>
</p><p>Yunho’s right, and it helps to be told this, but it also hurts to realise just how helpless they all are, powerless against the Capitol’s system.</p><p>Also, the way Yunho seems to know <em>exactly</em> what to say tells Hongjoong more than he wants to know – that this is what Yunho wishes someone had been there to tell <em>him</em>, back in <em>his</em> first year mentoring. Yunho can’t be older than Hongjoong, he realises suddenly, and yet since District 9 has so few victors, he’s been forced into this traumatic role year after year – this must be at least his third.</p><p>Hongjoong suddenly feels fiercely protective of Yunho too, wishes he could get the poor man out of this vicious cycle and hide him away where the Capitol can’t torment him any longer.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not fair,” he says quietly, voice cracking.</p><p>“It’s not,” Yunho agrees. “There’s nothing fair about any of this. It’s not fair that we had to go through it, and it’s not fair that they make us watch others go through it now.”</p><p>Hongjoong glances up at him pitifully.</p><p>“How do you do it?” he asks.</p><p>Yunho shrugs.</p><p>“Don’t have a choice, do we? All we can do is help them as much as we can, and remember them once they’re gone.”</p><p>“<em>Help them,”</em> whispers Hongjoong with a bitter chuckle, looking back down at the carpet. “I felt like such a <em>joke</em> trying to help them – Dami and I are practically the same age, Jisung’s only a couple of years younger, and I’m trying to give them advice on winning, when I don’t even know how I did it myself!”</p><p>He realises belatedly that he’s still using present tense to refer to them, and pain lances through his chest again, causing him to curl in on himself. Yunho shifts closer, and when Hongjoong doesn’t seem discomforted by the action, he puts an arm around the smaller man.  </p><p>Hongjoong cries into his shoulder for the rest of the evening.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They find each other again the next day, sitting together by wordless agreement at the breakfast buffet.</p><p>“Did you get any sleep?” asks Yunho, as he fills his plate with fruit and pastries.</p><p>Hongjoong shakes his head, staring at the massive piles of food. Part of him wants to make the most of the free food while the Capitol’s paying, but part of him feels guilty for indulging when so many in his home district are still starving.</p><p>Yunho seems to notice his hesitation, and puts the croissant Hongjoong was eyeing onto his plate for him.</p><p>“Eat,” he murmurs. “We deserve it more than they do.”</p><p>Glancing round at the richly dressed, simpering Capitol citizens they’re sharing the room with, Hongjoong is inclined to agree. He nods, and adds some strawberries to his plate while he’s at it.</p><p> </p><p>They sit in silence for a while, both staring at the huge screens, as the tributes emerge from the various hiding places they’d spent the night.</p><p>“Who do you think will win?” asks Yunho suddenly.</p><p>Hongjoong takes a moment to consider.</p><p>“Maybe the boy from 8,” he says. “The tall one, who knows how to patch up wounds. It's a good skill to have.”</p><p>“Song Mingi,” supplies Yunho. “I’ve been watching him too. I think he’s got a good chance.”</p><p>“We haven’t really seen him fight though, have we?” asks Hongjoong. “He and the girl he’s with, the other one from 8, they’ve been mostly lying low since getting injured in the Cornucopia bloodbath.”</p><p>Almost on cue, the screen cuts to the District 8 tributes. Mingi is refilling their drink bottles from a spring, while the sweet-faced girl – Gahyeon, if Hongjoong remembers right – is crouched over her pack not far away, sorting through their supplies.</p><p>It’s a peaceful scene, the type which are few and far between in the Games, and Hongjoong feels on edge waiting for the inevitable disturbance.</p><p> </p><p>Sure enough, after a minute or two there’s movement in the corner of the screen – someone else is approaching.</p><p> </p><p>It’s the girl from 2, the one who killed Jisung. Hongjoong tenses at the sight of her.</p><p>Gahyeon doesn’t seem to have heard her advancing. She has her back to the other girl, focussed on readjusting the straps of her pack. Mingi isn’t looking either, concentrating on his own task. The District 2 girl is moving slowly and carefully, keeping her footsteps completely silent.</p><p>“Oh no,” whispers Yunho.</p><p>He absently sets down the pastry he was about to take a bite of, eyes fixed intently on the screen. Hongjoong can’t tear his gaze away either, dread settling in his stomach like a solid weight. Everything in him is screaming to try and warn the girl about the impending danger, but just like yesterday, he’s helpless to do anything but watch.</p><p>Gahyeon finally notices something is amiss and begins to turn, but before she has time to react properly, the girl stabs the spear into Gahyeon’s back.</p><p>She gives a choked gasp as the spear is withdrawn, and slumps to the ground.</p><p>
  <em>“NO!”</em>
</p><p>Mingi’s deep voice cuts through the air, along with the splash of the bottles being dropped carelessly into the spring as he lunges forward.</p><p>The District 2 girl startles – she doesn’t seem to have noticed Mingi until now. She turns to run – spears aren’t good for close-range combat – but Mingi’s long legs give him the advantage. Before she can get enough distance between them to attack, he’s grabbed the spear with both hands, twisting it roughly out of her grip and tossing it aside.  </p><p>In a split second, his knife is in his hands, and the next, it’s embedded in the girl’s eye.</p><p> </p><p>Yunho makes a strangled noise and jerks his head away as the canon goes off.</p><p>“Shit!” he curses.</p><p>Hongjoong finds himself flinching back too, one hand automatically flying to cover his own eye defensively. The whole room is buzzing with similar reactions, Capitol citizens looking faint at the sight.</p><p>Beside him, Yunho takes a deep breath and turns back to face the screen.</p><p>“That’s doctors for you,” he says after a moment, voice a little unsteady.</p><p>“Straight to the brain,” agrees Hongjoong quietly. “Instant death.”</p><p>Despite the perceived gruesomeness, it’s actually a pretty quick and clean way to go. Merciful, even. </p><p> </p><p>Unaware of the stir he’s just caused, Mingi abandons the girl’s body and rushes back to Gahyeon, dropping to his knees beside her.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Gahyeon,” he moans. “I should’ve been watching, I should’ve… I… I can’t do anything. I can’t fix this, it’s too deep, I… I’m sorry, I’m <em>sorry</em>…”</p><p>Gahyeon shakes her head and grips Mingi’s hand weakly in her own.</p><p>“S’okay,” she murmurs. “S’okay…”</p><p>Mingi holds her hand tightly in both of his, tearing up. Gahyeon takes one last shuddering breath.</p><p> </p><p>The canon booms.</p><p> </p><p>Mingi begins to sob in earnest.</p><p> </p><p>A flurry of activity kicks up in the main room, as the death of two tributes, one of them a Career, has switched up the betting pool. Odds are recalculated and new bets are placed, everyone chattering excitedly about the new turn of events like two real human lives weren’t just snuffed out forever.</p><p>Hongjoong ignores them all, and glances over at the man next to him.</p><p>Yunho’s gaze is fixed on Mingi, tears welling in his own eyes as he watches him crying. His fists are clenched and he’s leaning forward slightly like he wants to run in and comfort the boy on the screen.</p><p>“I hope he wins,” says Yunho, voice soft but determined.</p><p>“Me too,” says Hongjoong, as he watches Mingi finally haul himself back to his feet and raise his head, tears still in his eyes but face set once more. “And, you know, I think he just might.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me, seeing chances to bring in other idols I like as side characters: 😊<br/>Me, realising that means I need to kill them off: 🙁</p><p>Apologies to Dreamcatcher and Stray Kids (at least Oneus is safe back in District 8!)<br/>Btw, if any fellow Insomnias are reading this, Yoohyeon getting hit with an arrow is a BOCA reference, and Dami’s staff is from You and I! </p><p>Thank you to the people who commented and gave me the momentum to write more of this AU! I have a few other ideas, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading more!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Let me know if you enjoyed this, I might come back and add to it sometime in the future!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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